Thursday, September 30, 2010

She Likes the Standards

Much-needed distraction from packing/organizing:


Lucy, just in case you were wondering, I am saving this in a very safe place for your wedding highlights video.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

Let's Take a Moment For Some Whine

It's a done deal. We're moving to Ballard. In a week.

This house is so cute. It's in a super quiet neighborhood about 5 blocks away from the elementary school playground, three blocks from the bus the Bubba will take to work, or only 7.5 miles from downtown on his bike. It's close to Golden Garden bluffs and beach.

It's a two bedroom, which is what we're in now, but it's so much nicer. The living space is better laid out with big windows NONE of which look into neighbors' windows. I know! I didn't think it was possible in the city either! It has a full livable basement with an extra bedroom and bathroom down there (Family! Friends! Come visit! We finally have room for you!), and a huge play space. I imagine ride-on toys going around in circles and two Littles down there fighting over the bouncy balls! The fully fenced backyard is one-third patio complete with a wood-burning chiminea, one-third fruit and vegetable garden (Artichokes! Berries! Sour cherry tree!), and one-third grass. Lucy LOVES it. So do I.

First, before any of that can be enjoyed, is the purgatory.

I have been working on sorting and packing for (ONLY) three days, and I'm so exhausted I could barely drag my pregnant self out of bed this morning. Right now, Lucy is parked in front of Sesame Street and I am staring blankly into the abyss that is our "pantry" - really it's a Let's Throw Whatever Worthless Junk In Here That We Don't Know What To Do With room. I spent all day packing and organizing it yesterday, and you really wouldn't be able to tell just by looking. Is there anything more disheartening?

I've already taken an entire trunk load of stuff to the Goodwill and there's a new pile started. Every time I get caught with a "Oh, but this is great because...." I repeat my battle cry: "RUTHLESS! MERCILESS!" and in the Out pile it goes. The Bubba drew the line at the crystal champagne toasting flutes from our wedding. Me: But we've NEVER USED THEM. Bubba: But they're SPECIAL. Me: Whatever (hoarder).

My dining room table is covered with random crap I'm not sure what to do with, I have a stack of boxes started by the piano, and another in the corner of the bedroom. The only thing keeping me going is the fact that we signed a lease. We're moving. It's a reality, so deal with it, Lizzie. But really I'd like to curl in a ball and say, "But I'm too TIRED."

And then Lucy. She's generally done very well so far this week. She is a big fan of putting stuff in boxes and dumping it out. Especially the clean laundry I haven't folded for the last three days. (I knew there was a reason I wasn't doing that chore.) She goes between filling her own boxes and screaming at me to push her around in an empty tupperware bin.

I'm overwhelmed with this job. The pregnancy hormones make me weepy and give me an awesome Can't-Do-It! attitude. But! You eat the elephant one bite at a time, right? As soon as I get through this "pantry" maybe I'll feel better. Ugh. WHO NEEDS A RAT'S NEST OF EIGHTEEN EXTENSION CORDS?

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Is There Anything That Trumps A Good Poop Story?

We've been looking to move to a different rental house since baby number two moved from Category: Idea to Category: Imminent. We don't have a lot of space in our house. I mean, it's technically fine, but I'm ready for better, you know?

So we've been scouring Craig's List, and we've been intermittently looking at rental houses for a couple of months. To put it mildly, none of these places have spoken to us. I love our neighborhood now. We can walk to the library, to the organic grocery, to two different parks, the Bubba bikes to work, we're a block away from throwing rocks into the ship canal. Really, it's ideal SAHM territory.

I almost had to resign myself to living in a far north Seattle suburb where we'd have to drive because the places in our (modest, one income!) price range. It turned out that we were looking either at real rat-holes or at far away.

But this is all a different post entirely. Let's get to the poop, shall we?

Last Sunday we went to see a house that was old, old, old. The owner was asking $1300/mo. I'll add that the house is smallish (less than 1000 sq.ft?), is on a busy street, with single-paned painted-shut windows, is one house away from a Plaid Pantry stop-n-shop type convenience store and is just around the corner from a huge Goodwill store. Not really cute neighborhood realty here.

After looking in the first couple of rooms, we ended up just sticking around and asking questions to be polite to the owner who was very nice, but kept saying stuff like "I know the carpet is totally gross, but I don't have plans to replace it right now." I mean, really awesome.

Lucy, of course, chooses this particular moment to stop in her running-around tracks and shout "GOTTA GO POTTY!" I turned to the owner, asked if he'd mind if she used the bathroom and scurried off down the hall.

The bathroom was a veritable pit. I'm pretty sure I've used porta-potties in which I've been more confident touching things. I'm not sure when the last time it was cleaned. The bathtub and toilet had grime up and down the sides of them, and honestly, I just stopped looking around.

I plopped Lucy down on the toilet and she went about her grunting and red-facing until she exclaimed "Yay! Poopoos in the potty!" and hopped down from the toilet seat expecting exuberant laud and applause. Except! She jumped off the pot before, um, the ship actually left the port, shall we say? And all of a sudden there was turd smeared all over the seat and the front of the toilet.

I wanted so, so badly to just leave it. We could just run out! We'd never see this guy again! And really, I almost did, but I thought that might be a tad obvious. Well, obvious - slash - MEAN.

You will be happy to know I swallowed down my barf and reached for the wipes I still keep in my purse. I was chanting the whole time "Please, God, let this flush. Please, please, God," since I was depositing wad after wad of toilet paper and un-flushable wipes. I got Lucy's butt clean (with her joyfully oblivious to all of this, bending with her hands on the FLOOR for a butt-wipe. Really I don't know what was worse, the toilet or the floor. Oh gag. Both.), I got the front of the toilet wiped off, the toilet flushed, and I didn't puke! WIN! I turned to the sink and there was no soap. No towel. No nothing. Thank God for purse-sized hand sanitizer is all I have to say. I bathed us both in sanitizer and we left that house post-haste.

(Side note: I am so not looking forward to road trips with 7-11 toilet trips with kids. SO GROSS. How did you deal, Mom?)

Oh, but isn't Karma a funny thing?! I cleaned that guy's toilet, and then directly after, I'm pretty sure we found our perfect house! So maybe I should thank Lucy?


Thursday, September 16, 2010

Questions Answered

Inquiring minds want to know:
  • I am 12 weeks along give-r-take.
  • We are calling this baby Bidou in utero (just like we called Lu Baby Tad). Bidou is slang for a chubby belly in French.
  • Baby Bidou is due April 4th (evidently we like repeating birthdays – Lucy was almost born on 8/8, Bidou comes around 4/4… Maybe it’ll make remembering their birthdays easier when I’m senile.)
  • I have switched from by OB (who was fine but maybe not AWESOME) to a group of midwives in the area. So far? LOVE. They are completely laid back and chill and Your Body Knows What It’s Doing So Don’t Worry So Much and the complete opposite of my old OB group.
  • I would maybe have waiting a little longer before announcing the news to the whole Hoi Polloi, but I couldn’t hide my already huge belly from my co-workers anymore and I figure if my work peeps know, my support peeps should surely know too.
  • Part of the Laid Back Midwives deal means that I didn’t get an ultrasound at my first visit, and opted out of the silly screenings and whatnot that we're not at risk for and therefore I am (pretend) nervous that there’s two babies up in here. (There is really no chance that there are two. Unless I just jinxed myself.) Mostly just because I’d like to have an excuse for how positively enormous I already am. 12 weeks. Maternity pants. Come on. (FYI I've gained 2 pounds. I blame the lack of running mileage and not the behbeh, but you never know...)
In case you don't believe me: photographic evidence.
    • Lucy really doesn’t have any idea what’s going on pregnancy-wise, but she’s a pleaser. She likes to be funny and she likes the reactions when she tells people what they want to hear. At two years old, she’s already a flatterer and a feeler. So, I’m pretty sure she asks about her baby sister because she knows it makes us smile and laugh and give her smooches.
    • A big package of maternity clothes that I ordered came yesterday. God bless yoga pants! These should get me through the next sixish months. I'm 3 sizes smaller than with Lucy, so my clothes from Lucy's pregnancy are swimming on me. And besides that, I think I wore the same thing every single day from May to August with Lucy and was so sick of those three things that I just got rid of them. So! Replacements! Hooray!
    Anything else you need to know?

    Tuesday, September 14, 2010

    You Take the Good, You Take the Bad

    Things that have been (mildly) bumming me out lately:
    • I'm TIRED
    • We're looking to move and can't find *just* the right house. Frustrating.
    • It doesn't matter how much I get done in the day, there's always more laundry to fold or dishes in the sink or toys to pick up or papers to shred or beds to make or messes to mop up or children to bathe.
    • Every anecdote that I have to share has to do with bodily functions lately - they all seem to start with "When Lucy pooped the other day..." - and I should no longer be allowed be a member of grown-up society.
    • I can't wear any of my normal clothes anymore. Pants are too tight, shirts are too short. Welcome, maternity wear! I wouldn't have minded a couple more weeks of feeling athletic and skinny from my half marathons.
    But! Let's not dwell!

    Things that have been making me happy:
    • Lucy's new go-to catch phrase is "Oh, that's GREAT!" Said with great enthusiasm. She also loves the phrase "Comfy-cozy."
    • The morning sickness nausea has passed and I have no food aversions that I can think of. Mmmmmm food. I'm back to making dinner every night, which makes everyone happy.
    • Peach cobbler. People, I'm pretty sure the gods invented this dessert specifically to make me happy.
    • Every time Lucy sees my belly, she asks when Baby Sister is coming (she's TOTALLY convinced she's getting a sister)
    • I thought of awesome/funny/useful/perfect gifts to send to my Irish friend for her wedding. Don't you LOVE it when you put the pressure on yourself to find something perfect and then you DO? Win.
    • Lucy can write her name at 25 months. MENSA, baby!

    • I still run three times a week or so. My mileage has dropped from 25-30 miles per week to about 9-10, and my splits have dropped from 9min/mi to 11 or 12! Ha! It still feels good, though, so I've got that going for me.
    • I'm designing my Bubba a sweater for Christmas. I figure it's not too soon to start, factoring in screw-ups and rip-backs that are imminent.
    Did I forget anything?

    Sunday, September 12, 2010

    Just Like That

    Once upon a time in July 2010, I was suspicious.

    One day, a 10-mile bike ride made me too tired to do speed work on the track after. Ok, that can be explained away – that’s a lot of activity, you know? But then the next day, a four-mile run felt like the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my whole life. Add that to the sleepy factor. I had just been so TIRED. Like waking up tired. Which leads to crabbing at Lucy whether or not she deserves it.

    And then – and this was the clincher – I fell asleep on the couch in full sun reading her a book. That doesn’t happen. I usually have a really hard time napping during the day. Even when Lucy was a newborn and I was so exhausted I couldn’t see straight. Even then. But here I was, waking up with sunburn on my neck and drool on my chin and Lucy the Angel Child playing quietly with her trains.

    I put it all together, and though, ooooooh. I see what’s going on here. And I peed on a stick.

    And lo.

    There were two lines.

    (2nd pregnancy = already huge!)

    In the spring, we will be a family of four.

    Wednesday, September 8, 2010

    Just Another Day

    The Seattle Public Library had some pretty severe budget cuts in the last years, so every year all the libraries/websites/everything is shut down for a week or so around Labor Day. For our family? This is an extraordinarily long week.

    The fast was broken yesterday, though, and we celebrated by spending basically all afternoon walking to the library, sitting and reading books and coloring pictures and playing with hand puppets and wooden puzzles, and walking home. It was an afternoon very well spent.

    I was a little surprised, though, with how many parents dump their kids in the children's section and take off. As I was reading books quietly to Lucy, I attracted a small crowd of pre-schoolers and started to get very annoyed that I was basically free child care for their parents. Lucy echoed my feelings when a kid tried to push in front of her to see the picture on the book I was holding and Lucy said "This MY mommy. Go YOU mommy read to you." That's pretty much when we stopped reading and moved on to puzzles.

    Lucy is aware of traffic signals, stop on red and all that. On our walk, I was explaining the Walk/Don't Walk signals. She watched them like a hawk and then would flip out when the Don't Walk started blinking yelling at random strangers, "NOT SAFE PEOPLE! NOT SAFE! DON'T CROSS!"

    There's also an intersection between the library and home with a turn arrow. Stopped for the arrow was a cab with its windows down. As we were waiting to cross, the arrow turned green, but the cab seemed to be waiting for us to cross. The car behind him honked it's horn, and Lucy hollered at the cab driver, "GREEN MEANS GO, PEOPLE!" (The funny thing is, this honestly isn't something she hears me or the Bubba say.) I wasn't sure whether to be embarrassed or proud...

    You can't accuse my kid of being shy or getting pushed around. She's nobody's fool.

    Monday, September 6, 2010

    Potty Talk

    Tuesday afternoon last week, I asked Lucy, as I routinely have been, if she wanted to wear a diaper or Big Girl Pants. She chose Big Girl Pants. There were a couple of fits and starts as we figured out how we each were approaching this Big New Thing, but in the end? This was the easiest transition we've ever had.

    Getting rid of the Nuk? Bad. New car? Bad. Big girl bed? Bad. But as a very wise friend once told me, when the kid is ready to do something on his own accord, the transition is a breeze. I'll be the very first one to admit that waiting for a kid to have her OWN idea about doing something you want her to do basically amounts to torture. But it sure it nice once it happens.

    And thank God, right? I mean, really, it's about time some part of this parenting gig offered me some sort of instant gratification. I'm even more thankful knowing that some people end up cleaning poop off their floors for a week or two before things finally click for the little ones. Lucy had one pee accident on the floor all week. And. That. Was. IT.

    We finally got the big bad Number Two in the potty by Friday (twice, even!), and by then we were golden. Well, except that when Daddy came home Friday night into Saturday there were an unprecedented number of wet pants incidents. It was just enough of a change to throw Lu off her game for a minute. But! The potty prevailed! And! I never had to clean poo off the floor or out of undies! Bonus!

    I was so sure of things that we went out to church Sunday with Big Girl Pants on. I had to swallow some embarrassment as I ran out with a "GOTTA GO POTTY!" kid in the middle of the sermon, but you have to pay the piper somewhere along the way, right? And I'll take that over an accident to clean up, any day.

    So, I'm pretty confident in saying that we're good here. I still carry around wipes and a diaper and a change of clothes with me when we go out, but so far so good! The only thing I regret is having had to spend the last nice week of summer weather cloistered in our house/yard close to the toilet. But ohmygoodness, it was so worth it.

    See? Even Sonya Lee has to potty sometimes